


The Consultant

by SleepyEye



Series: How It Happened [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 10,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyEye/pseuds/SleepyEye
Summary: Post CoE. Robin is trying to be true to both Matthew and herself. Follow me on tumblr @SleepyEye17





	1. Hatham Advertising

**Author's Note:**

> This is hopefully going to be a two-part series if I can stay motivated.

Robin spun in slow circles in the wheelie chair behind her desk. She was irritated. Irritated and sad and lonely. She wanted desperately to scream. A psychology professor years before had told Robin’s class to scream while driving on the freeway, as a way to release stress and anger where nobody else could hear you. Robin had tried this morning, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She wasn't good at being loud, even when nobody could hear her. She rarely even cheered at performances or concerts. She raised her voice at Matthew occasionally, but never outright yelled. When she thought about it, she only really let loose and screamed on roller coasters, and she hadn't been on one of those in years.

“Cunliffe!” Her boss, Jesse Hatham, strode in, his posture impeccable as ever. Robin stood and handed him his morning coffee.

“Good morning Mister Hatham.”

Hatham didn’t break his stride, and Robin had to skip to keep up with him.

“You have an appointment with the Nike execs in half an hour,” she said, “And there’s a mandatory course on racial representation at one. And, of course, the board meeting at three-thirty.” She flipped through her clipboard. “Your brother’s stag do is at 8:30 tonight, booked it at White’s.”

“Thank you, Cunliffe,” Hatham said, turning into his office. She had already sent him his entire schedule on Google Calendars, but he liked to hear it from her as well. Robin suspected that he just liked to have people scurrying after him, making him feel important. She sank back down into her chair with a huff. Hatham was stern, and Robin had never seen him smile. But, as Matthew often said, at least Hatham wasn’t one of those wannabe Mad Men types who tried to grab her ass. The job paid well, and there was no denying that most of their marital problems had been solved by the job. Matthew had been the one who got it for her, as Hatham Advertising had close ties with his accounting firm. Their arguing had almost entirely stopped. But God, the job was boring. She sat at the front desk and felt her mind atrophy with nothing to do, no problems to solve. Most of her coworkers looked right through her, which was fine with her. She had gone to an office party the week before and had been bored to tears by what passed for conversation. Matthew said that she judged them too harshly, and that she would make more friends if she just put some effort in. She saw the sense in this, but putting the effort in left her feeling emotionally flayed. So she stayed lonely.

Matthew had gotten a promotion at his work, which meant that he worked late most nights. Robin worked early, getting to work around seven thirty, which meant that she and Matthew saw less of each other. She missed him terribly, though there was no denying that their arguments had completely vanished. At night Matthew would trudge in around nine and collapse on the sofa, where Robin would stroke his hair and read to him from the New Yorker magazine.

Robin’s personal phone buzzed, and she answered it.

“Hello,” she said, smiling for the first time all morning.

“Robin,” Cormoran said, “You have the info on Cyber Bully?”

“I do indeed.”

“You’re a gem. When’s your lunch break?”

“One-thirty.”

“I’ll meet you at Pret Manger then.”

“Let’s do somewhere sleazier. I don’t want us to be spotted by the work crowd. Most of them know Matthew, and I don't want word to get around.”

“Right. Fish and chips?”

“Perfect. Everybody here is on some sort of bizarre diet, they wouldn’t touch chips with a ten foot pole.”

Robin hadn’t told Matthew that she was still working for Strike. She was listed on Cormoran’s payroll as a consultant, which meant that she did the more in-depth internet investigations, while Cormoran did the actual tailing. He paid her in cash, which she deposited in small increments so that Matthew wouldn't be suspicious. Every Wednesday she met up with Cormoran for lunch to go over cases and share hunches. It quickly became the highlight of Robin’s week, the one thing that got her through the grueling empty hours at Hatham Advertising.

“See you then,” Cormoran said brightly. Robin hung up, thinking that maybe the day wasn’t a complete waste.


	2. Fish and Chips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're short, but hopefully they'll be updated frequently.

Robin had to resist the urge to jump up and down upon seeing Cormoran through the restaurant’s window. 

_ Pull yourself together, girl,  _ she thought,  _ If a casual work lunch makes you that excited, you really need to find some more friends. _

“Alright,” Cormoran said, after they both placed their orders, “What did you find on Cyber Bully?”

Robin pulled out the file she had written up.

“So I read the whole site, back to front,” she said, “And Jesus, those kids are really messed up.”

“Teenagers are hell,” Cormoran agreed.

“Anyways, I went through the student directory and highlighted all the names that were mentioned on the site. About half the students have been targeted. It’s not all negative, sometimes people post compliments too, so I highlighted the students who are praised the most in pink, and the ones who are bullied the most in yellow. I also asked their Computer Science teacher, Doctor Hill, for a list of his best students. Whoever is doing this is pretty good with computers.”

“God, Computer Science in secondary school. What a brave new world.”

“You old fart.”

“Once we get that list we can cross-reference your directory list.”

“I don’t know how much good my directory list will do. Cyber Bully might be writing good things about himself, or not writing about himself at all.”

“Or pulling a Mean Girls and writing negative comments to throw us off the track,” Cormoran said. Robin stared at him.

“You’ve watched Mean Girls?” she asked.

“It came out when I was in the hospital. It was a decent film.”

Robin grinned. Somehow this new piece of information fit in well with her broader image of Cormoran. Their food arrived and they fell to eating.

“Did you ask Spanner about the IP address?” Robin asked.

“Yeah. Whoever is doing it is using a school computer,” Cormoran said.

“The best tactic then would be to go to the school and watch the computers.”

“I’d blend right in at a secondary school library, wouldn’t I,” Cormoran said. Robin laughed at the image. “We could ask the librarian to keep an eye out,” he suggested.

“Unless the librarian is the one doing it,” Robin said.

Cormoran raised an eyebrow.

“I know, I know, it’s a long shot,” Robin said, “I’ve been watching too many crime shows.”

“Crime shows are the death of the good investigator,” Cormoran teased in a mock teacher voice.

“Let me live vicariously on this one, would you?”

Cormoran grinned.

“I’ll tell various faculty to be on the lookout,” he said, “Maybe they can give me the search history before it’s cleared at the end of every day.”

“God, teenage search history. That would be a terrifying thing to see.” 

They ate in silence for a few moments, then Robin asked,

“Do you like roller coasters?” 

Cormoran raised an eyebrow, confused at the new line of inquiry.

“I love roller coasters,” he said, “But the ones that go upside down make me sick.”

“Same. I like the old wooden ones that clatter around.”

“Haven’t been on one in ages. Not since I was a teenager.”

“It’s been a while.” She stabbed at her fish. “Sometimes you just really need a place to scream your guts out.”

Cormoran lifted his beer in a toast.

“To screaming your guts out,” he said.

 


	3. Mum Calls

On Friday Robin called her mum for their weekly catch-up.

“We closed up a case with a secondary school,” she said, “They paid us to look into a cyber-bullying site. We traced their CCTV with the search history and found the kids responsible. It was a nasty scene.” She prodded at the onions she was sauteing for dinner. “God, teenagers are awful. Were my friends that nasty?”

“I loved your secondary school friends, personally,” Linda said, “Speaking of which, have you heard that Alice is pregnant?”

“No!” Robin felt a distant pang of sadness. She and Alice had been best friends when they were teenagers, but after graduation Alice had gone abroad to India and had never left, and their friendship hadn’t held through the distance. Alice’s mother and Linda remained friends, though, and got tea together every Sunday. “I’m very happy for her.”

“Are you still in touch with Alice?” Linda asked.

“No, I’m not really in touch with anybody, honestly.”

Linda sighed.

“You need some friends, Robin. It’s not good to be so alone.”

“I’m fine, Mum. In fact, I got drinks with some coworkers last night.”

“Oh, how lovely.” Linda sounded incredibly pleased. “How was that?”

“Exhausting. I don’t know how to talk to people anymore.”

Linda laughed.

“Nobody does,” she said, “That’s the big secret of adulthood.”

“God, what a miserable thought.”

“Do your coworkers know that you’re working two jobs?” Linda asked.

“No. Most of them know Matthew in some form or another, and I wouldn’t want word to get out. These techie types all get around.”

“You still haven’t told him, then,” Linda said.

“Why would I? This past year has been great for us. All of our old arguments are no longer an issue. He loves his work, Shadlock got married and has been off the radar, I’m making enough money to help out with utilities and such. I’m not going to throw a live bomb into the middle of it.”

“How long do you think this will last? The truth will always out, Robin, and then you have to pick up the pieces.”

“So what do I do? Give up my dream job for the man I love? That sounds like the type of patriarchal thinking you always warned me about.”

“You have to have honesty in your marriage. That’s how your dad and I have stayed together so long.”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, “You must have  _ some  _ secrets. You can’t tell each other  _ everything.” _

“Oh, but we do. Otherwise we can’t work through it.”

“ _ Everything?” _

“Oh yes. That’s also how we’ve managed to stay faithful to each other all this time.”

“I always assumed you stayed faithful because you loved each other.” 

“Well, yes, of course, but just because you love somebody doesn’t mean you don’t have your ups and downs. I mean your father and I have both had crushes other people before-” 

Robin nearly dropped her spatula.

“ _ You have?” _

“Of course, it’s only natural. But when that happened we talked about it, and recognised that it means that we were growing distant as a couple, and we needed to spend time together. So we would leave you kids with Uncle George and go camping for a weekend.”

“ _ That’s _ why you’d go on those camping trips?”

“Well not every time. We also just loved to camp. But a couple of times, yes. We were honest with each other, and we were able to work it out.”

“What if honesty doesn’t work it out? What if honesty makes it worse?”

“Well, then it’s not healthy to begin with.”

“What are you saying?”

Linda sighed.

“Nothing,” she said, “I’m sorry, I’m micromanaging your life. Forget I brought it up.”

They carried on with their conversation, discussing Martin’s new girlfriend and the garden that Linda was putting in. But Robin was troubled, and burned the onions to a mushy mess.


	4. Elijah Boyd

Cormoran pressed his palms down on his eyes. Managing the business was much more difficult with Robin on as just a consultant. He needed her gentleness, her approachability. Most of all, though, he missed Robin’s perspective. She could see things that he would overlook completely. 

Alyssa tapped at his door.

“Mister Strike? Mister Boyd is here.”

“Right, thank you, show him in.”

Boyds was a large man, nearly as tall as Cormoran, with thick dark hair and a jaw like an anvil. When he shook Cormoran’s hand it was with the firm precision that only came with a lifetime of practice.

“Mister Boyd, hello, I’m Cormoran Strike. Please, have a seat. What can I help you with today?”

“I think my wife is cheating on me.”

Cormoran respected a client who got straight to the point.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“We’ve only been married for six months, but lately things have been… weird.”

“Weird how?”

“The usual signs. She’s started dressing up nicer and has been working late. She keeps forgetting to tell me things, or she’ll tell me things twice. The other day I went to surprise her at work, and she got quite upset. My friends say that this is normal behavior after you get married, but I’m not so sure.”

“And where does she work?”

“Windsor Actuarial Consultants Limited. She’s an actuary.”

“And her name?”

“Sarah Boyd.”

“Do you have a recent photograph of her?”

Elijah Boyd slid a strip of photo-booth photographs across the table.

“These were all I had on hand, I’m sorry,” he said, “I could send you something better via email if you’d like.”

“The more photos the better, yes. Although this is also good.”

The woman in the photos was quite pretty, red-haired and blue-eyed, with a high forehead and a sweet round face.

“It all happened so fast,” Boyd said, “Honestly I think she only asked me out as a rebound after her last relationship went flat. But then we just clicked, and three months later I was proposing, and four months later we were married. At the time I thought it was all very romantic and exciting, but now…” Elijah swallowed hard and blinked up at the ceiling. “Now I don’t know.”

Cormoran nodded, wishing again that Robin was there. It was common for his office to resemble a therapist’s office more than anything else, and, being the psychologist of the two, Robin was much better suited the emotional moments. Cormoran did enjoy the more social aspects of the job, but he wasn’t especially good at them. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.


	5. Best Western

Cormoran had his methods on how to tail someone without a car. He had his favorite cab driver on speed dial, a change of jackets, a hat, sunglasses. Overall, however, he mostly had to rely on the fact that most people were absolutely oblivious to their surroundings. Thankfully Sarah Boyd was one of these people. 

Sarah left the house at nine AM and drove to work. Cormoran followed her in a cab, racking up a massive bill. He then sat at a cafe outside her office for four hours, getting up only to use the bathroom and refill his mug of tea. He was used to the long surveillance hours, and brought a cheap paperback mystery: nothing so engrossing that it would distract him, but enough to pass the time. 

At one Sarah left for lunch with several colleagues, and Cormoran followed them from a distance to a Mexican restaurant. He ordered a burrito and observed from across the room. Sarah Boyd was in a group of five, one man and three women. Cormoran noticed that she sat closer to the man and kept finding reasons to touch him. She was a flirt, there was no denying that, but flirtation and having an affair were two very different things. The man made a joke and she burst into giggles, putting her hand on his shoulder as if to say  _ “Oh stop, you’re killing me.” _ Cormoran had to fight the desire to roll his eyes. He wished that Robin was with him, and they could talk shit about the subjects together. Robin had a way of admonishing him and reminding him to be professional, but then following with a burn so severe it would leave both of them in giggles.

The group left and headed back to the office. Cormoran sat at a bus stop this time, as the cafe owner had started shooting him dirty looks at the last one. It began to rain, a sudden summer downpour, and he was glad that he’d remembered to bring his umbrella.

At 5:15, Sarah Boyd came out of the office alone, tapping away at her phone. Cormoran followed her into the tube station, where she took the train to Pimlico. He followed her to a Best Western a few blocks away and photographed her going in. He then pulled his hat low down over his ears and followed her in. Thankfully the lobby have a rack of brochures, and he lingered, pretending to look. 

“Hello, Deborah,” Sarah said to the receptionist. Cormoran raised his eyebrows. First-name basis with the receptionist meant that she came here frequently.

“Hello, Sarah. Same room as ever?”

“207, yes. He’s not here yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Thank you.”

The receptionist handed Sarah a key card. Once Sarah left, Cormoran waited a moment, then paid for a city map and left. Room 207 would be visible from the street, and he would be less suspicious from outside. 

He watched as the curtain of 207 opened, Sarah glanced outside, and the curtain was shut again. He sighed. He’d hoped that she would be one of the many exhibitionists that made his job very easy. It often surprised him how brash many cheaters were, having sex pressed up against windows, or kissing in crowded restaurants. Sarah was apparently not so careless.

He was shaken from this thought by a familiar figure striding towards the hotel. Cormoran felt a weight drop in his gut as he recognized Matthew Cunliffe.


	6. 2 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but hopefully I'll get two up today.

Cormoran laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. He was meeting Robin for lunch the next day and had to come up with a plan of action.

It was his policy to never involve third parties. His business was to find information for the client, and nobody else. Whatever the client wanted to do with the information once it was handed over was not Cormoran’s affair. But this was  _ Robin _ . His coworker, his friend. The woman he had uncomfortably intimate feelings for. And the woman whose husband he actively despised. He couldn’t deny that in his weakest moments he had hoped for their marriage to end. But not like this. He never wanted this, never wanted Robin to be hurt or used. He clenched his fists around the bedsheets. He could kill Matthew. He could feel rage pounding through him, rage that he hadn’t felt in ages. What was Matthew thinking? How could he be so stupid, having Robin and throwing her away? Cormoran punched his pillow into a more comfortable position, using more force than necessary. 

He remembered years earlier, when Nick had seen Charlotte at a restaurant with another man. When Nick told Cormoran about these suspicions, Cormoran had gotten defensive and lashed out at Nick. He’d accused Nick of trying to split them up, of assuming that Charlotte was cheating just because she was out with a man, of jumping to conclusions because Nick had never liked Charlotte. What if Robin blamed Cormoran of jumping to conclusions? And worse, what if she was right? What if he was letting his emotions get in the way of procedure?

He took several deep breaths and tried to review the evidence. Redhead entered a hotel, where she planned on meeting a man. Matthew entered five minutes later. Over the next hour, seven more people went into the hotel, two couples and a family of three. Roughly an hour and a half later, Matthew emerged again, polished and precise as always, not a hair out of place. Five minutes later, Redhead followed. It was unlikely that Redhead had been meeting anybody else, but not impossible. And even if she was meeting Matthew there, that was no proof of infidelity. They had both been neat and focused, no lipstick stains or visible hickies, no rumpled clothes or buttons undone. They could have been doing any manner of things in there. They both worked in finance, they could have been sharing work secrets.

He rolled over, his mind made up. He would wait until he had definite proof of infidelity before he told Robin.


	7. Chapter 7

 

They met the next day at a restaurant aptly named The Diner, a burger joint with red leather booths and rough brick walls. 

Robin had to stifle a giggle when she saw Cormoran. He looked like he’d spent the night in the spin-cycle. He had heavy bags under his eyes, and his hair was a wild nest around his head. He looked exhausted and worn down, and she just wanted to wrap him in a blanket and give him tea. 

“Long night?” Robin asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“You look…” She tried to think of a thoughtful way to put it. “Tired.”

Cormoran laughed dryly.

“Your tact is inspiring,” he said.

“Long case?”

“Standard. Potentially unfaithful wife. She went to a hotel room, but nothing concrete.”

“No titty shots, you mean.”

“Right.” 

“Anything for me to do?” Robin asked.

“Not on that one. But I do need some routine background checks for a law firm.” He slid the paperwork across to her. “Shouldn’t be too exciting.” 

“Shame, I could use some excitement.”

Cormoran took a deep breath, then went for it.

“How’s Matthew’s job going?” he asked. 

Robin looked confused, but didn’t question it.

“Alright. He got a promotion shortly after we got back from Spain. He likes it. More responsibilities, more money.”

“Does he work late?”

“Well, yes, it does mean long hours.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s this about?”

Cormoran shrugged.

“Just curious.”

“If you’re worried about him finding out that I’m your consultant…”

“Not it’s not that. I'm just making small talk, that’s all. I like hearing about your life.”

Robin flushed, happy at this sudden interest.

“Alright. Well, we do work different hours. He doesn’t usually come in until around nine at night, and of course I have to be at work at seven thirty. So we don’t have much time together.”

“Sounds rough.”

“We make it work. The beauty of the modern age means that we can text a lot throughout the day.”

Cormoran nodded.

“Your anniversary just passed, didn’t it,” he said.

“Yeah, last week.” She smiled down at her eggs. “We’re thinking about buying a house.”

“Really!” Cormoran gripped at his fork until his knuckles turned white. “Wow, that’s excellent. Where would it be?”

“Wherever we can afford, really. There’s one in Highgate that’s quite lovely. A good place to start a family.”

Cormoran tried not to let his eyes bulge out too much.

“Wow. A family. That’s a… That’s a big commitment,” he said.

“We’re married, Cormoran,” Robin said, grinning, “Commitment is sort of the point.” She pointed her fork at him. “What about you, are you seeing anybody right now?”

“Nah. I’m taking a break from the whole scene.”

Robin was surprised at how relieved she felt at this news, and hid her smile in her mug.


	8. House Hunting

 

Robin sat behind Matthew on the sofa as they scanned housing sites. She couldn’t focus. Her mind was wandering to lunch that morning. Cormoran had seemed so rumpled and distracted. She had seen that look often when they worked together, and it meant that either he had been up working a difficult case, or he had been up with a woman. He’d have told her if he was working a difficult case. But then, he also told her that he was taking a break from “the whole scene”. what did that mean, anyways? She knew he wasn’t above a one night stand. Her mind jumped to Alyssa, former stripper Alyssa, tall, thin Alyssa, alone with Cormoran every day…  _ Snap out of it, Robin. What does it matter who he’s sleeping with? _ She decided that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. She just wished that he’d tell her. They were friends, after all. Friends told each other these things. 

“What do you think of this flat?” Matthew asked, startling Robin out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“This one. It’s in Primrose Gardens.”

“I still prefer Highgate,” Robin said, “Closer to work.”

“I thought you were planning on leaving Hatham,” Matthew said, looking very pleased with her decision to stay, “I know at first you didn’t like it.”

“It’s growing on me.”

“I’m glad.”

Robin played with Matthew’s hair. It was gelled to perfection, shellacked into smooth dark waves that crunched under her fingers. She found herself suddenly remembering Cormoran’s hair that morning, wilder than usual, standing up in every direction. She was curious as to how it would feel under her fingers. Was it wiry? Or soft? She shook her head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. 

“Hey Matthew?” 

“Yeah.”

“Would you ever want to go… camping?”

Matthew snorted.

“Camping? Why?”

“It doesn’t have to be camping. Just get away for a bit. I miss spending quality time together.”

“Well God, sorry I work hard,” Matthew said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Sorry for trying to provide for us.”

Robin felt herself deflating under his tone.

“I know you work hard,” she said, “That’s why you need a break. A vacation.”

“I took this promotion for us, you know,” Matthew said, “So that we can get a house, start a family.”

“I know. I’m grateful. Truly.” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

She stared at the realty site and wondered when she’d started feeling so damn small.


	9. Shanker

 

Cormoran waited for Shanker at a pub near Shoreditch, sipping moodily at his pint. For the past year he had been paying Shanker a small monthly amount to keep an eye on Alyssa and the girls, in case Brockbank returned. He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that Shanker would do it for free. 

“Hiya, Bunsen,” Shanker said, sliding onto the stool next to Cormoran, “Why the long face?”

“This is how I always look,” Cormoran said, “That’s just my face.”

“Don’t fuckin lie to me. I’m your brother. I know when you’re fuckin lying to me.”

Cormoran narrowed his eyes at Shanker’s act of force, then shrugged. He was already halfway to drunk anyways, might as well start confessing.

“I was following a woman the other day, thought to be cheating on her husband. All the signs point to the fact that she is, in fact, unfaithful.”

“So?”

“It would appear that she’s having an affair… With Robin’s husband.” He finished off the last dreg of his pint. “Robin’s husband is cheating on her.”

“Fantastic!” Shanker said. 

Cormoran raised his eyebrow, unsure if Shanker had understood him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Shanker asked, “They get divorced, she runs to you, you live happily ever after.”

“I don’t want her to run to me.”

“Fuck off. You drove five hours to her wedding and five hours back, and you’re tellin me you don’t fancy her?”

“ _ Fancy _ her? What are we, thirteen?” 

Shanker stared him down. Cormoran had seen Shanker give the same look to gang leaders and drug lords, and knew that nobody could withstand it. He sighed. 

“Of course I like her,” Cormoran said, “She’s an amazing woman. And in some simpler, kinder universe, I might have tried my luck with her. But I don’t want her to  _ run _ to me.”

“You’re a fuckin masochist, you know that?”

“No, I’m not. Honestly, I’m not. I just don’t want to be some temporary rebound, or a short-term ego boost while she gets back on her feet. And I certainly don’t want her to get hurt, not by anybody. I want her to be happy.”

Shanker narrowed his eyes and smirked.

“Damn, Bunsen, I see you.”

Cormoran rolled his eyes and tried not to smile.

“Shut up.”

“You’re in loooove.”

“I am not.”

“Bunsen is in loooove.”

“Fuck off.”

Shanker giggled for a bit, then leaned forward on his elbows.

“So we gonna slash this prick’s tires or what?” 

 


	10. Alyssa

Cormoran put off all other cases to prioritize tailing Sarah Boyd. He followed her to the grocery store, the gym, girls’ night out. Luckily for him she was extremely oblivious, always on her phone while she walked, never noticing him behind her. Unfortunately this lackadaisical attitude did not spread to Matthew. They met every Monday, always closing the blinds tightly, always coming and going separately. Cormoran didn’t want to get too close, because the second Matthew recognized him it would all go to hell. 

Cormoran grew a beard, and wore a hat pulled down low over his eyes. He was glad for the unseasonably wet weather, as he could pull his umbrella down over his face if anybody looked in his direction. On sunny days, when he couldn’t use the umbrella, Alyssa drove him over in her car and they sat in front of the hotel for hours as she did homework for her night classes in child psychology. He told her that she didn’t need to come along, he would be fine out on the street, but Alyssa liked the peace and quiet of stakeouts, away from the office, away from the girls. She also liked Robin, and always felt deeply indebted to her. After all, Robin had saved Alyssa’s family from Brockbank, even though Alyssa had beaten her black and blue. 

This went on for a month. Four weeks of tailing, and Cormoran never got any more evidence than Matthew and Sarah both entered the hotel together once a week. Cormoran couldn’t sleep, so he started drinking more before bed. He gained weight and noticed grey spots in his beard that hadn’t been there before. Alyssa tried to help, but her methods of comforting usually involved bringing him macaroni and cheese or bottles of whisky, which was very kind of her but did nothing to improve his health. 

Throughout this time Cormoran tried to maintain his casual friendship with Robin, texting often and meeting once a week for lunch. He assigned her simple cases, mostly finding marriage certificates for Ilsa’s law firm, or background checks for various corporations and banks. Robin teased him once about his beard, but otherwise didn’t mention the deterioration of his physical appearance, the anxious edge in his eyes. He was grateful for this. He didn’t know what he would say if she’d asked.

Sixteen photographs, four a week, all of Sarah and Matthew entering and exiting the hotel separately. Cormoran spread them out on his desk and kneaded his temples in frustration. 

“Any progress?” Alyssa asked, setting a mug of tea on his desk.

“Nah. I wish I could get closer, but I can’t risk being spotted by Matthew.”

“You know, my sister works at a Best Western as a cleaner," Alyssa said.

“Really! You never mentioned that.”

“Well, it’s not that same Best Western so I didn’t think it would be relevant. The one she works at is in Hackney.” Alyssa sipped at her tea. “It’s not a pleasant job. She always complains about the thin walls there. She can hear all the nasty shit people do in hourly hotels.” 

Cormoran sat up straighter.

“I know it’s a different hotel,” he said, “but I bet they’re similar. Maybe we could use that to our advantage.”

Alyssa nodded.

“You thinking a glass to the wall?” she asked.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“I’ll book you room 209 for Monday. And maybe I could get in touch with my sister, see if she could help.”

“What do you have in mind?” Cormoran asked.

“Well, you don’t want this Matthew prick to notice you. But nobody ever notices the help. Especially not if they’re black.”

Cormoran grinned.

“You sure you don’t want to become an investigator?” he asked.

“You crazy? I see how many threats you get. I got my girls to look out for now, I can’t deal with that shit. But I can help you out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for condensing a month into a chapter. Had to happen.   
> I really liked Alyssa in CoE, I thought she was very nuanced and real, so I'm keeping her on. Plus her and Shanker would make a really cute couple, imo.


	11. Phase two

When Cormoran was a child in Cornwall, he and Lucy would sometimes put cups to the walls and listen to the grownups talking on the other side. They would eavesdrop on their aunt and uncle before their birthdays or Christmas, trying to hear what they were getting. After they left Cornwall they didn’t need to hold glasses to walls. The information was loud and ever present, and usually something they didn’t want to hear. Instead of eavesdropping they tried to block out the noise, and instead of cups to the walls Cormoran would give Lucy his transistor radio with the cheap foam headphones, so that she could drown out the sounds of fighting, or sex, or drunks trying to play.

Now Cormoran had his ear to a glass again, held to the wall of room 209, listening to the creaking of bedsprings and the slap of skin on skin in 207. Matthew was a loud lover, and didn’t dwell much on foreplay. Matthew and Sarah had barely said a word to each other before the grunting and squeaking started. Cormoran felt utterly ridiculous. He rarely went this far to prove guilt. Normally he followed the target, took photos, and turned them over to the client for them draw their own conclusions. If this ever went to court, the sounds of sex wouldn’t stand up without a recording. It would just be his word of what he heard against the word of Sarah and Matthew. And he wasn’t keen to admit to eavesdropping on sexual escapades. But maybe Elijah would listen.

Cormoran’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp cry of “Fuck, Sarah!” and then nothing. Cormoran was shot through with the sudden image of Robin in the bedroom, lying underneath Matthew as he grunted and swore. Cormoran felt a headache coming on, and lifted his ear from the cup. He thought he might be sick.  He went over to the small bathroom and splashed water over his face. He didn’t know why he’d thought this was a good idea. He knew he could never tell Robin what he’d heard. He didn’t think he’d even be able to meet her eye after this. 

He went back to his chair by the wall and put his ear back on the cup with a sigh.  _ Gone this far, _ he thought,  _ Might as well have something to show for it.  _ Their voices had gone from post-coital murmuring to business-like conversation. Cormoran rolled his eyes. Clearly Matthew and Sarah's relationship was not about romance. Cormoran checked his watch. An hour had gone by since they had entered the hotel room, and if Sarah and Matthew stayed true to form they would be leaving soon, and Alyssa would be preparing to Phase Two. Sure enough, he heard a knock on his door.

“Cleaning,” Alyssa called. Cormoran went over and opened the door. Alyssa was dressed in her sister's housekeeping uniform and tugging along a large cleaning cart. She nodded in greeting, then crouched behind the cart. Cormoran handed her a camera, which she placed on top of a bucket. Cormoran stood behind the open door, his phone camera pressed against the door’s peephole. He wasn’t sure if either photo would be at a proper angle, so he wanted both options.

The door to room 207 opened, and both he and Alyssa held their breaths. Matthew stepped out and looked both ways, polished and suave. Then Sarah's arm reached out and grabbed Matthew by his tie, pulling him in for one last kiss. Cormoran snapped the photo.


	12. The Envelope

 

Robin was typing up Hatham’s schedule at the front desk when Elijah Boyd came in, looking anxious and out of place in the glossy front lounge. He was carrying a large manila folder, the kind that Robin had stored case files in when she had been Cormoran’s assistant.

“Elijah!” Robin said, “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Is there a private place for us to talk?”

Robin was confused, but nodded.

“There’s an empty conference room, I think," she said, "I’ll take an early lunch.”

She punched out her time card, then led down the hall to an empty room. Robin didn’t know Elijah incredibly well, but what she knew of him she like, and not just because he had drawn Sarah’s attention away from Matthew. He was a sweet man, a dermatologist, who always seemed completely stunned by his adoration of Sarah. Their first date had been to Robin’s wedding. Sarah hadn’t wanted to show up alone, so she had asked Elijah out the day before. It had been a whirlwind romance, and they were married barely seven months later, on Valentine’s Day. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” Robin said, once the door was shut behind them.

“Well, I thought you would want to meet to talk about next steps.”

“Next steps? Regarding what?”

“Well, regarding…” Realization dawned on Elijah’s face. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Oh my God,” he said, “He didn’t tell you.”

“What?”

“Cormoran Strike. I hired Cormoran Strike to... He didn’t tell you?”

He laid the folder on the table, and Robin could see Cormoran’s distinct handwriting on the front.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“I’m sorry. I thought, because you used to work together… I’m sorry.” He picked up the folder and stood to leave. “I shouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Elijah, wait, please. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. It’s not my place.”

“What’s in the folder?” Robin asked, her voice stern and cold.

“I…” Elijah sighed and slid her the folder. “Fine. Here. I’ll just leave this here with you. Give you some space.”

Robin opened the folder.

There were several glossy photographs, and Robin looked at those first. There was Sarah Shadlock, red-headed now instead of blonde, walking into a Best Western hotel. Then, in the next photograph, was Matthew. Robin had to blink at it for several seconds for it to sink in. She flipped through the photographs. Each photograph was carefully labeled with a date and time. Six photographs of Sarah going into the hotel, six photographs of Matthew following a few minutes later. Six photographs of Matthew leaving the hotel, six photographs of Sarah following. The last photograph was shot in the hotel hallway. Matthew was leaving, and Sarah was kissing him goodbye.

Robin put the photos down and closed her eyes. She sank into a wheelie chair and focused on breathing very slowly.

How many times had she been on the other end of this when working for Cormoran? How many times had she seen men and women in this exact position? She felt like the floor had suddenly disappeared beneath her. 

Her first thought was that she had to run to Matthew for help, but then the circuit connected in her mind and she remembered that he was the problem. Her mind spiraled. She needed somebody. She needed help. Cormoran?

She looked down at the report. 

_ “On July 9th I followed Sarah Boyd to a Best Western hotel, where at 17:30 she booked room 207. At 17:36, Matthew Cunliffe also entered the hotel. At 19:03 Sarah Boyd left the hotel. Matthew Cunliffe followed at 19:10. _

Cormoran’s classic military detail. Her eyes caught on the date. July ninth. Nearly six weeks prior. Cormoran had sat across the table from her, they had discussed her house search, they had discussed her marriage, and never once had he mentioned that anything was wrong. She felt heat rushing through her, pure rage soaking into her skin. 

She told Jesse Hatham that she had food poisoning and had to leave. Flushed and shaking, she was so believable he told her to take the rest of the week off and come back on Monday, and maybe go by the hospital while she was at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks were like "How will Cormoran tell her?" PSYCH HE DIDN'T! Cause he's a man-child who can't deal with feelings. But he's a beautiful, wonderful, sweet man-child who I want to wrap in blankets and keep forever.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one, so hopefully you'll get two. I'm going on vacation this weekend, so we'll see what my wifi situation is.

Cormoran had just sent Alyssa home and was beginning to finish up for the day when Robin came slamming into his office, a red and gold whirlwind of rage.

“Robin? What are you doing here?” 

Robin slammed the envelope down on Cormoran’s desk.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Recognition dawned on Cormoran’s face and he sighed.

“When, Cormoran?” Robin repeated.

“When I knew for sure. When I had proof.”

“Really? Cause I read the report and it seems like you had quite a bit of proof. How long has this been going on, anyways?”

“If you read the report then you already know. I’ve been tailing Sarah Boyd for about a month now.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“I didn’t know what to do. What could I have said?”

“You didn’t know what to say?” She was shaking with fury and her eyes were red. “Okay, here’s a script: ‘Hi Robin, crazy thing, I ran into Matthew today! Yeah, he was going into a Best Western. Interesting, isn’t it.’ Then I could have confronted him and not been made into the world’s biggest fool today! Fuck, Cormoran, I was going to buy a house with him! I was going to have his children!”

“It’s our policy to not involve the third parties, you know that.”

“Is that what I am now? A third party?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever.” Robin could feel the tremble in her voice and hated it. “Thanks for letting me know where I stand.”

“Robin…”

She wanted some biting exit line, but tears were already starting to course down her cheeks and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before she broke down completely. So she grabbed the envelope and walked out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

Robin was sitting at the table when Matthew came in. She had wanted to do something rash and wild, like set Matthew’s best suits on fire, or interrupt his work meeting and expose him in front of all his coworkers. But there was still a faint edge of doubt, a tiny hopeful piece of her that was sure he could give a proper explanation that proved his innocence.

“Hiya babe,” Matthew said, smiling, “Where’s dinner?”

“I didn’t make anything,” Robin said, coldly. Matthew furrowed his brow.

“I… Uh, okay. I’ll put on some pasta.”

“First I need you to explain something to me,” Robin said.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Elijah Boyd came by Hatham today and gave me these.” Robin took out the photos and slid them across the table.

Matthew’s eyes widened, then widened more. He looked to Robin like a big, stupid fish.

“It’s- you had us  _ followed _ ?”

“No, Elijah did. He suspected that Sarah was cheating. About which he was completely correct, I might add.”

“He wasn’t- it’s not what it looks like.”

“Unless you have a twin you haven’t told me about, it’s  _ exactly _ what it looks like.”

Matthew sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“I was giving Sarah secret work information. My company wants to buy hers. She’s helping bring down her company from the inside, and is giving me confidential intel.”

“And you transferred that intel by snogging?”

“Fine. So we kissed. Once. She initiated it, it didn’t mean anything.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Matthew snorted.

“Like you’re so innocent,” he said, “Get off your bloody high horse, Robin.”

Robin was confused. She had prepared for denials, she had even prepared for a tearful confession. But this was completely unexpected.

“What are you talking about? _ ” _ she asked.

“You think I don’t know about your little lunch meetings?”

Robin gaped at him.

“Yeah,” he went on, “I knew. I knew from day one. You thought you were so sly, but you’re not the only one who can follow a lead.”

“It- it was just work…”

“Yeah I already used that excuse, try another one.”

“It’s true, Matthew. I missed the job. I’m sorry. I should have told you. But I never- I would  _ never  _ cheat on you. Never.”

“Yeah, you should have told me. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I would never be unfaithful, Matthew. I love you.”

“But you  _ would _ lie to me? What’s the difference? Being unfaithful with your words is just as bad as cheating with your body.”

“I- what?” Robin wanted to argue this bizarre point, but figured that it wasn’t worth the energy. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you angry,” she said.

“Well guess what, Robin, I’m angry! Maybe if you had just told me, we wouldn’t be in this position! If I’d thought you were being faithful I never would have messed around with Sarah.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

“So you  _ were  _ unfaithful,” she said.

“I… Yes, but just because you were, too…”

“I don’t believe this,” Robin breathed, putting her hands to her mouth, “Oh my God, I was so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Robin. I forgive you. We all make mistakes.” He reached forward to touch Robin and she jerked back.

“Don’t you touch me,” she hissed, “Don’t you  _ ever  _ touch me.”

“Can’t we just call it even and move on?”

“Call it  _ even _ ? No! There is no universe where we are even.” She stood up. “I was stupid the minute I put that ring back on. I was stupid to ever think that you’d changed.” She tugged the two rings off her fingers and set them on the table.

“Come on, Robin, don’t do this again.”

“Don’t try to follow me, or I’ll call the police.”


	15. The Aftermath

 

Robin woke up the next morning, face-first on the hotel bed, a mostly empty carton of ice-cream melting on the pillow next to her. The clock read 3:00 in the afternoon. She’d left Matthew in a tsunami of rage, too angry to think, too angry to do anything but leave. So now she was at a Travelodge with nothing but the contents of her purse. She rolled over with a groan. An empty wine bottle fell off the bed and shattered on the floor.

_Stupid stupid stupid. How was I so stupid. We were going to buy a house. We were going to have a family._

She opened her phone. Ten missed calls from Matthew, fifteen texts. She deleted  these without bothering to hear what he had to say. There was a voicemail from Elijah Boyd asking if she wanted to meet. She decided to save that for later. There were also three voicemails from Cormoran. She felt a stab of shame for the way she had treated him. Of course she was still annoyed that he hadn’t told her earlier, but it wasn’t his fault that Matthew was a cheating asshole. Cormoran had been put in a very difficult position. Besides, without Cormoran’s research she would still be with Matthew, putting a down payment on a flat in Kent. She pressed play.

“Robin, it’s me. Call me when you’ve got a chance.”

Then,

“Listen, Robin, I should have told you. I panicked and I was stupid. I’m sorry. Please call me back.”

Then,

“Hi Robin, me again. Want to make sure you’re okay. We don’t have to talk, just shoot me a text so I know you’re safe.”

Robin rolled her eyes at Cormoran’s protective nature, then dialed. He picked up on the first ring.

“Robin. Hi. Did you get my voicemail?”

“All of them.”

She could practically feel Cormoran wince through the phone.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said.

“About leaving too many messages? Or about not telling me?”

“Both.”

“I’m still pissed that you went behind my back.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself, then said, “And you should know… You’re not just a third party to me. You’re… incredibly important to me. And I got scared, because I didn’t want to wreck that.”

Robin sighed.

“I know,” she said, “And I’m sorry I flew off the handle with you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was in the wrong.”

“You were. But I still regret it.”

“Are you…” He didn’t know how to broach the subject. “Are you at your... home?”

“No, I’m at a Travelodge.” She bit her thumbnail. “I’m getting a divorce, Cormoran.”

Cormoran let this turn over in his mind. Finally he asked,

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Robin.”

“I’ll get the file on Ilsa’s alimony case to you by tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about the work, Robin, I just want to know how you are.”

Robin sat up, pressing a hand to her throbbing forehead.

“I spent all night drinking wine and crying,” she said.

“That’s cathartic, I suppose.”

“It’s shit.”

“Yeah.” Cormoran cleared his throat. “Do you… want some company?”

“I’m a mess, Cormoran.”

“I know. But I’ve got some mongolian noodles with your name on it.”

Robin stared down at the empty ice-cream carton in her bed, the only thing she’d eaten in twenty-four hours. She sighed.

“Alright, come over. But I’m warning you, it’s not pretty.”

“I guarantee I’ve seen worse.”

Robin hummed skeptically, thinking that the acid-burned body of Owen Quine had nothing on her. She looked down at her stained and wrinkled work suit.

“Oh, Cormoran?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you bring a change of clothes?”


	16. Mongolian Noodles

 

Robin hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said she was a mess. She had fallen asleep with the spilled ice-cream in her bed, and it had caked into her hair, which was matted and wild. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, and makeup was smudged down her cheeks.

“Welcome to my slough of despond,” she said, gesturing around the hotel room. Cormoran looked around and nodded like he was appreciating a work of fine art.

“Not bad, as far as sloughs of despond go,” he said, “After I left Charlotte I lived in the office.”

“I remember.” 

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment. Her eyes were rimmed in red, which made the blue stand out stronger. He had never noticed how clear they were, like he could fall in if he looked too long. He cleared his throat.

“I found some shorts, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt,” he said, “They’re from my thinner days, but you’ll still be swimming in them. I’m sorry I couldn’t find anything smaller.”

“Better than this,” Robin said, gesturing to her stained and wrinkled suit. Cormoran had to agree. “I’ll go change and shower.”

“Can I stick around?” Cormoran asked. Robin shrugged, but the fact that he wanted to made her smile for the first time since Elijah had come into the office.

“If you’d like.”

Cormoran handed her the clothes, and she ducked into the bathroom. He heard the shower start and he was suddenly and painfully aware that Robin was completely naked behind one thin wall.  _ Snap out of it you old perve _ . He sat gingerly on one of the hard armchairs and considered this new state of affairs. When Robin and Matthew had split up before, Cormoran had been very careful about what he did or said about Matthew. He had always suspected that Robin would go back to Matthew, that the wedding would continue. He’d seen the similarities between their relationship and his relationship with Charlotte, and he had known in his gut that Robin would take Matthew back. She was too afraid of loneliness, too eager to save Matthew, altogether too much like Cormoran. Now, though, Cormoran wasn’t so sure. This wasn’t some long-ago one night stand like before. This had been routine betrayal, up front and public. Robin could endure many things, but she did not bear humiliation easily.

She came out shyly, like a girl showing a new dress before her first dance. Her face was bare and clean, and her hair was still wet. Cormoran’s shorts came down to mid-calf, and the sleeves of his sweatshirt were rolled up three times just so that her hands could be seen. Cormoran thought she might hear his heart from across the room. What had he ever done to deserve her? He held out the takeaway container of mongolian noodles.

“Dinner?”

They sat and ate in silence, for which Robin was grateful. She couldn’t handle talking about what happened, but talking about anything else seemed ridiculous.

“Hey, Robin?”

“Mm?”

“I have a crazy idea.”

“Mm.”

“Do you want to go find a roller coaster and scream your head off?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a drawing. https://sleepyeye17.tumblr.com/image/174322539448


	17. Thorpe Park

 

They got off the roller coaster breathless and bow-legged, laughing and wide-eyed and hoarse. Robin was so dizzy she nearly toppled over into a bush, and Cormoran had to put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. 

“I saw an Italian restaurant when we came in,” Cormoran said, “You want some dinner before going on another ride?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t stop giggling with the adrenaline, and leaned into him.

“You okay?” Cormoran asked.

“That was scarier than I expected,” she said, catching her breath, “They didn’t have that roller coaster when I came here before.”

“When were you here before?”

“In secondary school. My girlfriends and I did a road trip up here before graduation.”

Cormoran liked the idea of teenage Robin, coming to the park with her girlfriends.

“You still in touch with any of them?” he asked.

“No. My mum is in touch with their mums, and we occasionally see each other when we come home for Christmas, but none of us are close.”

Cormoran hummed sympathetically. He had come and gone to enough schools in his childhood to understand the difficulties of long-distance friendship.

She glanced up at him. 

“I’m not dizzy anymore,” she said, “You can let go of me.”

Cormoran smiled and looked straight ahead, keeping his arm tight around her shoulders.

“I know,” he said.

 

The restaurant was bright and friendly with a slightly tacky air, with a jungle theme and giant safari font on the menus. Robin and Cormoran both got thick slices of greasy pizza. Cormoran ordered a pint, and, after a brief pause, Robin ordered one too.

“How do most people handle breakups?” Robin asked. Cormoran shrugged.

“Shave their heads. Have meaningless sex. Sink into alcoholism.”

“ How did you do it?” Robin asked, “After you left Charlotte you were right back at it, working the Landry case and acting like nothing had happened.”

“Here’s my secret:” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Where most people store their emotions, I just have a smoking black crater.”

Robin grinned and kicked him under the table. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” she said.

Cormoran grew serious. 

“Okay, in all honesty. You want to know how I bounced back so fast after Charlotte? The truth is I didn’t. I was a mess.”

“You hid it well.”

“It helped that the day she left me we got put on the Landry case. I threw myself into that and distract myself.” He looked down at his hands. “And then you came along,” he added, “That helped too.” 

“Me?” 

He was reminded again of how pretty Robin was when she blushed.

“Absolutely,” he said, “You were an excellent friend.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

Cormoran took another drink, then cleared his throat.

“Listen, Robin,” he said, “I know you have your own job, and it pays much better that I ever could. But I also want you to know, if you wanted to, I’d… Well, I could use a partner. By which I mean, you. I could use you as a partner.”

“What about Alyssa?”

“Oh, Alyssa is a decent secretary, and she has good contacts in the sex industry, but she doesn’t have any interest in investigative work.”

“Could you afford to have both me and her on?”

“I think so.” Cormoran had gone over the numbers. It would mean raising his fees a bit, and taking a fairly significant pay cut himself, but with Robin’s help they could take on more cases and ultimately make up for the difference.

Robin’s smile bloomed slowly. She put a hand over her mouth to hide the tremble in her chin.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blinking at the ceiling, “ _ Of course _ I want to come back, Cormoran.” She grinned through her tears. “I… Yes. Yes, I will come back.”

Cormoran let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Ah, thank God. I’ve missed the hell out of you.”


	18. Back at the Room

They got back to Robin’s hotel room a little after midnight, both a little more than tipsy. Robin flopped down on the bed immediately. Cormoran brought her a glass of water and sat down next to her. 

“Alright,” Cormoran said, “Drink some water, there you go.”

Robin sat up and held her glass in two hands, like a child. Cormoran realized that his hand was resting on her waist and couldn’t entirely remember how it got there.

"Thank you," Robin said, "I mean for everything. This evening has been really wonderful."

"It has, hasn't it." His voice was hoarse from hours of screaming. "I needed some scream therapy."

Robin set down her glass and turned to look at him. He had finally shaved his beard, but there was already a shadow of stubble around his jaw. She noticed that it was beginning to turn silver up by his ears. He blinked down at her. How had she never noticed how long his eyelashes were?

“Would you…” Robin started, “Would you like to stay the night?”

Cormoran felt his heart pounding in his throat. Every part of him wanted to say yes. He wanted to fall asleep holding her, to wake up next to her. He wanted to touch every inch of her, he wanted to know her skin by heart. She was looking at him with vulnerable, child-like eyes, desperate for some sort of contact. Her head swayed back and forth a bit in drunken dizziness. Cormoran felt all the breath being sucked from his lungs at the sight of her.  _ Not like this, I don’t want it to happen like this. _ He didn’t want to be her rebound. He didn’t want to be a drunken mistake after a messy breakup. But God, he wanted everything about her.

Cormoran sighed and removed his arm from around her.

“No,” he said, “Not like this.” Robin dropped her chin to her chest, her eyes creased in shame. “Not because- Look, I just don’t want to be a drunken one-night blunder,” he explained, “You and me… We can’t be casual about this, Robin.”

Robin looked at her hands and nodded. Cormoran stood to go.

“I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow?” he asked. Robin stood to see him out.

“I’ll give Hatham my two-week notice in the morning,” she said. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around Cormoran and held him tight. He relaxed slowly into her arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. He gently ran his hands over her back.

“Cormoran?”

“Yes?”

“You know you’re…” She looked down, unable to look him in the eye. “You’re pretty much my best friend.”

Cormoran let his breath out in a rush, but he wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. He brushed the hair out of her face.

“You’re pretty much my best friend too, Robin,” he said. 

“I don’t use that term lightly.”

Cormoran knew this. Hadn’t Nick and Ilsa lasted longer in his life than any girlfriends he’d ever had? A best friend had enormous power. It held commitment, and deep trust, and a kind of love that went deeper than superficial romance.

“I know,” he said, “I am…” He blinked several times. “I am deeply honored.” He squeezed her tighter. “Don’t tell Nick you’re my best friend, by the way,” he said, “It may be true, but I’m not about to rub his face in it.”

Robin leaned into his shoulder and managed a wet chuckle. 

“Goodnight, Robin.” He leaned down and for a moment his rough face was brushing hers, and she held her breath, and he kissed her, gently, on her left cheek. Then he knew that if he stayed a minute longer he would never be able to stop, so he turned on his heel and left.

Robin stood, stunned, for several seconds, then fell back onto the bed with a groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're almost done, just one more half chapter. I'm working on a sequel where they get together; I thought it would be done by now but it's getting really long and complicated. But hopefully it will be soon. Thanks for reading, you all give me life and joy and I appreciate you so much.


	19. The End

Robin woke up to the sound of a pile driver pounding outside her window and felt like it was hammering straight into her skull. She was confused and disoriented. Her bed was too soft, and she was sleeping under a duvet instead of blankets. She rolled over to get closer to Matthew, but he wasn’t there. She finally opened her eyes and allowed the events of the past two days to filter down into her waking brain.  _ Elijah, Cormoran, Matthew, Sarah… Cheating… Thorpe Park... Cormoran… Oh God did I say that… Did  _ he _ say that…  _

Clean white light shone through the curtains. Robin took stock of her situation. She was in a Travelodge, in Cormoran’s borrowed clothes, completely alone. She spread her arms and legs out like a starfish, taking up the whole bed. Once she got out of bed there would be other things to deal with: divorce, and quitting her job, and finding a new place to live. But for now she stared up at the ceiling and listened to the pile driver drumming outside and felt nothing but freedom.


End file.
